More trees toppled and then, from out of the forest, the Craw Wurm emerged. Wrapped in its scaly coils, Naru struggled to get free, bellowing with pain. The Craw Wurm threw another coil around the giant’s kicking legs, crushing him under its weight.

The mob, driven to an ecstasy of excitement, howled insanely. Naru continued to fight, managing to bring forth another burst of flame from above. Garth countered by blocking the fire, and then increased the Craw Wurm’s strength. The Wurm threw another coil over Naru, pinning his arms and squeezing.

The giant's face turned dark purple. A loud scream of anguish burst from him as if the cry had been crushed out of his body. Naru’s head lolled back in unconsciousness.

The mob, screaming with insane frenzy, cheered wildly, even though it was one of their old favorites who had just been defeated.

The Craw Wurm raised its head, preparing to bite down and devour its meal.

The screaming of the mob thundered.

Garth One-eye raised his hand.

The Craw Wurm seemed to freeze and then, in a puff of smoke, it disappeared.

Naru, still unconscious, tumbled to the ground and was still. Garth walked over to the giant’s side and pulled his dagger out.

A hush settled over the mob, confused by this action and then realization set in that Garth meant to deliver the death blow with his own hand. Some cheering broke out but many fell silent. This was no longer killing in the heat of combat and there was an uneasy stirring.

Garth held his dagger aloft and then with a dramatic flourish threw the blade out of the circle. A stunned gasp swept the arena.

“He was a worthy foe and my friend!” Garth shouted, the mob surprised that a mere fighter held the rare spell of far speaking. “I will not murder him for the pleasure of a Grand Master who has perverted the rules of the arena.”

“Kill him. It is a blood challenge.”

Garth turned and looked back at Zarel.

“I won the match, you cannot deny me that. But I will not commit murder for you.”

Zarel, screaming with rage, started to point at Garth.

“Will you violate that rule as well?” Garth taunted.

“Let them live!”

It was a lone voice, that of a woman, and Garth looked across the arena to see someone standing, wearing the dark leather armor of a Benalish warrior. Her cry was instantly picked up by the mob.

“Let them live, let them live!”

Garth started to create a shield of protection while all the time staring at Zarel, waiting. Furious with rage, Zarel looked back out at the mob, which was on its feet, some of them already spilling over the wall, ready to storm onto the arena floor. Zarel, his features white with fury, sat back down.

Turning his back on Zarel, Garth reached down and touched Naru on the forehead. Naru stirred and opened his eyes.

“Funny. Is this afterworld?”

Garth smiled and shook his head. Extending his hand, he was nearly pulled over as Naru weakly got to his feet.

“You mean I lose and you still alive.”

“Something like that.”

“I am disgraced, One-eye.”

“I called it a spell match so, damn it, give me a spell and we’re even.”

Naru fumbled weakly in his pouch. He hesitated for a moment and then pulled the amulet out.

“Juggernaut, most powerful I have,” Naru said evenly.

Garth took the amulet, and then shook Naru’s hand, the exchange causing the mob to erupt into a wild frenzy.

The two walked back to their corner, Naru resting his hand on Garth’s shoulder for support.

Kirlen, leaning on her staff, ignored Naru as they came into the shade, the giant staggering over to the table of food, picking up a heavy amphora of wine, and inverting it over his open mouth, the wine cascading down his pale, drawn face like a river.

“Your sentimentality won you no friends here,” Kirlen said.

“I brought back your best fighter alive.”

“And you.”

Garth smiled and said nothing.

A loud cheer went up and Garth looked over his shoulder and felt a momentary tightening in his chest. Varena was down on the ground. But her opponent was down as well and ever so slowly Varena came to her feet and held her fist up in triumph.

Garth turned back to face Kirlen.

She smiled coldly and turned away.

Garth went back to his seat. The arena thundered with noise in celebration of the end of the fifth round of eliminations.

“It’s time for the winners to get their wreaths,” Hammen announced, coming to Garth’s side.

“Then I think it’s time for me to go.”

“I think he has something planned for you.”

Garth smiled.

“Let’s see how the timing works.”

“Maybe you should just skip out now and be done with it.”

Garth laughed and strode out onto the field. Greeted by a loud ovation, he walked slowly toward Zarel’s throne. From out of the tunnels the dwarf catapult teams emerged and the roar of the mob resounded even louder. Watching honors for favorite winners was one thing, but the chance for free gold was far more important.

“He plans to divert the mob with bribes while you’re taken,” Hammen said.

“It will be an interesting surprise. Let’s just hope it gets started quickly enough,” Garth replied.

As he approached the throne the other surviving fighters lined up beside him. He looked over at Varena, her features pale and haggard, and nodded a greeting. A brief smile flashed for a second and then she turned away. Garth looked at the other fighters, who stared at him coldly. The new rules meant that all of them were now gazing at men and women who would either be their victims or killers come tomorrow.

Zarel stood up and floated down from the throne to alight on the sand of the arena floor. Four of his fighters came forward bearing a golden tray, upon which rested the laurels given to those who had reached the final day of eliminations. Garth could not help but notice, though, that a solid phalanx of warriors was pouring out of the access tunnels, following by nearly all the Grand Master’s fighters. They moved out onto the arena floor in order to surround the golden circle.

“All of you shall be my guests at the palace tonight,” Zarel announced calmly.

“I’ve already been there once. I think I shall decline,” Garth replied calmly.

Zarel turned to face Garth. In the background was the rattle of dozens of crossbows being raised.

In the distance the mob was still howling with delight, but not for what they assumed was a simple boring ceremony to end the day’s fun. Nearly two score of wagon-carried catapults were now out, their dwarf crews loading up the first pots. The weapons fired, the mob howling with joy as the clay pots arced up into the audience.

“If you fight, I wonder if they would even notice,” Zarel said. “They’re getting stuffed on gold. I daresay as well that some of your opponents here would be more than happy to have you out of the way. In fact, if you were gone, we could dispense with the blood sport for tomorrow and return to the more traditional form.”

Garth looked sidelong at his potential rivals. He saw only Varena giving him a nod of support. Garth stretched and simply smiled.

The first of the clay pots crashed down into the audience and the mob surged to where the golden treasures would land.

The dwarf crew were hurriedly reloading, firing again and yet again. But the tone of the mob was already changing. The wild exuberant shouts were replaced within seconds by mad cries of panic and pain.

Zarel hesitated and looked up from Garth. The pots continued to rain down on the audience… breaking open to disgorge stinging scorpions, hornets enraged by their disturbing trips, and hissing poisonous vipers.

For several seconds all seemed to be frozen, Zarel looking at the mob, not understanding, the guards surrounding Garth with weapons raised, and the angry howling of the mob growing ever louder.